How have I been? Well, let’s see. My mother was an alcoholic. She couldn’t take care of herself. I felt guilty as hell for wanting to leave her here. And the man of my dreams was going from hot as hell to indifference about me so fast I was getting whiplash from all the mixed messages.
Brooke’s arms were around me next, and she was screeching into Shane’s face asking if he would ever write a song about her. He flirted like mad and asked us if we’d seen some dark haired girl with light gray eyes.
I shook my head. All I’d seen were a pair of perfect hazel eyes that always seemed to be pulling away from me. Brooke held onto him and spoke against his ear. People laughed, and someone spilled a drink on my shoe.
Time moved in flashes of color.
Red. Green. Blue. Yellow. Purple pulsed.
Somewhere in the crowd I had lost Dean. My stomach felt hollow, and my chest was heavy with longing. Brayden and Brooke spoke in shouts, over the crowd, reminiscing about wild nights and early mornings we had all shared. I remembered most of the stories, but each one was always tainted with my feelings of unrequited attention from someone—someone I could hardly breathe around—someone I never stopped wanting.
A DJ took to the stage in a small booth and introduced himself. I could barely decipher the words he was screaming into the microphone. My eyes searched through the sweaty bodies for Dean, but he was gone. More music filtered out over us, and Brooke and I danced in the middle of room. Brayden’s arms flailed out in crazy circular patterns—the guy never had rhythm—it surprised the hell out of me when I found out how good he was playing the bass guitar though.
We eventually danced back to the bar, sweat glistening on our skin. I kept wondering where Dean was, and who those girls were that had said hello to him. I didn’t care too much about the men. I found myself straining my neck and standing on my tippy toes, desperately watching the dance floor for any sign of him. I was pathetic.
Had he slept with any of those women?
Would he take one of them home? Would I hear her moaning through the thin walls of the house later that night? A sharp slice of jealously scraped at my insides, but I pushed it away and cleared silly thoughts from my head. I laughed at something Brayden said next to me, in attempt to pull myself back into the shitty reality around me. Dean and I weren’t together, and we wouldn’t ever be. My home was hundreds of miles away from him. And I should be in that home, hundreds of miles away—grading papers and watching television in a pair of old sweats.
A loud squeal erupted down at the end of the bar, making me jerk my head around. My heart dropped into my stomach.
Dean stood stoic, the group of girls next to him, laughing and giggling. Along the bar, countertop shot glasses were lined up, a heavy amber liquid filled them all. Dean’s eyes looked hazy. I wondered how much he had drunk. How long had I been talking and dancing with Brayden and Shane? It couldn’t have been more than three songs.
“Let’s do a shot for Thomas,” one of the girls slurred, holding a shot glass straight above her head. “Whatever trouble he got himself in, may he find fucking peace.” Her voice traveled out across the bar. People turned to look back at her. I wondered if this was a place Thomas went to a lot.
Dean’s shoulders tightened.
I didn’t think anyone else noticed. They all held up their glasses, called out his name, and slammed back their drinks—all but Dean who towered over all of them, watching them through horror-filled eyes.
I instantly pushed past Brayden and Brooke, ignoring them calling my name. I wedged myself between Dean and a tall blonde girl. She was so drunk that she didn’t even notice. “Stop. Whatever you’re thinking right now just stop.” I cupped my hand around his cheeks, focusing his eyes on mine. “You’re punishing yourself for something that someone else chose to do. You can’t change what happened, the only thing you can do is find out why. Help other people in his situation.”
“You’re right,” he leaned down and murmured into my hair. His hands tangled through the strands.
“Hey, Livie,” I heard someone call from behind me. My bottom got wacked with a loud slap. I whirled around to Brayden and Alex, the drummer, standing side-by-side, smiling down at me. “There’s going to be a little party over at our place. You want to hang?” Brayden looked up and smiled at Dean. “All your friends are invited too.”
Before I could tell him no, because that’s honestly what my answer would have been, Dean’s arm was around my shoulders, pulling me into his extremely hot, hard chest. “Hey bro, thanks for asking, but I think we’re just going home…to bed.”
Um…What now?
